


Sacrifice

by OneFlower



Category: Spirited
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-18
Updated: 2011-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 05:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/279245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneFlower/pseuds/OneFlower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This takes place during S02E10.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during S02E10.

  


Henry paced the emptied pool like a caged tiger, his long legs only allowing for a few strides before he had to stop and turn. His frustration and fear for Suzy were eating at his insides like worms at a corpse. He must convince her to leave the building before it collapsed around them.

“Look? Do you want to  _die_  here?” he shouted in desperation as she huddled miserably in the corner, a blanket draped over her shoulders, tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t know! We’d be together!” she cried.

Her words stunned him into silence.  _Together._  It was all and everything that they wanted: to be together. But not like that. Not in death. Being a ghost wasn’t like being alive with the added benefits of invisibility and the ability to walk through walls. It was like being wrapped in cellophane, or enveloped in a cocoon of cotton. You could see and hear the world, but not  _feel_  it. The morning sun was shining on him, but he couldn’t feel its warmth. A breeze was riffling through his hair, but he couldn’t feel it on his scalp or sense the movement of his wild mane. He would never again know the burn of a good whiskey in his throat, the complex flavours of ripe cheese, the warm melt-in-your mouth tenderness of a flaky Beef Wellington crust, the erotic glide of fingers on silky skin, the hot dampness of quickened breath on his neck, the scent of sex, the boneless satiation of completion. All of these simple experiences that were part of being alive were lost to him forever. It was hell.

Not for Suzy. He couldn’t bear for that to be her fate. He loved her too much. During his life, he’d shied away from that word,  _love_ —great in a song, but sentimental claptrap when said to another. He wasn’t afraid of it now. He loved Suzy. More than he had loved anyone or anything before. 

And what of Suzy’s kids? What would they do without their mum if she stayed here? Henry’s own son had grown up without his father, and turned into an angry, bitter man. Henry couldn’t bear that for Elvis and Verity, too. Though they didn’t know he existed, he had come to love them as if they were his own, and he wanted them to have long happy lives. They needed their mum more than he did. Which was a fucking lot. What he needed was for Suzy to live, to experience life as he could not.

 _When did you turn into such an unselfish bastard,_  he thought ruefully.  _Thinking of others’ needs before your own._  The answer was obvious: when he met Suzy.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself, reaching a decision. “Suze, come on, follow me.” She stared at him blankly, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. “ _Follow_  me!” He’d never used such a commanding, demanding tone with her before, but it worked. She followed him meekly, padding on bare feet back into the building.

The hallways of the Elysium were dim and damp, yet another spirit world to traverse, but Suzy’s own spirits had improved, and she chattered brightly about how much fun they would have in the derelict building. Total rubbish, he knew. She couldn’t stay there. And he couldn’t leave.

The emergency workers brought her up short.

“Henry?” She looked at him, asking him to fix things, to make them right. He couldn’t, had never been able to, really. He could only do what he hoped was The Right Thing.

“I’m sorry, Suze. Go with them.” 

“No,” she whispered, realization dawning.

“Go to your kids,” he told her, backing away, afraid he would give in to the desperate plea in her eyes. “Go to your  _life_. It’s precious, Suze.”

“Henry!” she cried, lunging at him.

But he backed away through the wall, and she couldn’t follow.

He emerged in the ballroom, and placed his hands against the gilt-edged mirror. He could sense Suzy on the other side, feel her anguish, her sobs, her tears. Nothing in life or death cut him as deeply. Music and lyrics jumbled in his head:  _Afraid I’m disappearing, but I couldn’t leave you if I tried…_  But he had to leave her.  _I keep pretending I’m leaving… it’s all for the best._

“It’s all for the best,” he whispered to the wall. Then he realized he’d never really told her, never said it straight out, so he said it to the mirror, and hoped she could hear: “I love you, Suzy Darling.”

  



End file.
